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“When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?” Kirisaki pauses, waiting for some reaction, and then sighs. “Neither of you two read, do you.”
Kei snorts. “I’m an award-winning author and you think I haven’t read Shakespeare?”
“We got it.” Juggler takes a sip of his coffee. “It just wasn’t funny. Do I look like a crone to you?”
Kirisaki stares at both of them for a long moment, lip twitching in a clear desire to sneer, and then sighs again. “I loathe both of you.”
“Oh, the feeling’s mutual, don’t get me wrong, but who the fuck else are we supposed to have coffee with? I mean, I guess Fukuide would go make up to his sugar daddy if the bastard wasn’t dead, but I haven’t exactly got a lot of friends, and you actively try not to make friends.”
Kei’s knuckles go white on the handle of his coffee cup. “What did you call my lord Belial?”
“Are you referring to ‘sugar daddy’ or ‘bastard?’ Either way, it’s not like I’m wrong. Anyway, does it matter what I called him? He’s not exactly around to be offended. Granted, I’m not sure how either of you got here to be offended, but coffee shops are liminal spaces anyway.” Juggler shrugs, grinning into his coffee as he takes another sip. “So I guess anything can happen. How are your Sturm organs feeling today, Fukuide? All in one piece?”
The only response he gets is a haughty sniff.
Kirisaki is eyeing Kei thoughtfully. He hasn’t touched his own coffee at all, just sits there with his hands wrapped lightly around the cup, tracing patterns that probably have some meaning to him on the ceramic with his fingertip. “I’ve been considering getting a harbinger myself for when I choose to make my triumphant return—”
Juggler snorts derisively.
“—my triumphant return, I was saying. You wouldn’t be interested, would you? You’re already familiar with the work, and I do hate having to train people.”
Another derisive snort, but this time from Kei. “You really think you compare to Belial? You? Whose only goal is the corruption of one noticeably stupid young man? Your lack of ambition sickens me. Belial was a god. You are…” a flicker of smile, “not.”
“Size queen.”
Kirisaki freezes. Kei rounds on Juggler, voice deadly calm. “Would you care to repeat that?”
Juggler shrugs. “I mean, he does lack ambition, but I think we all know that your real problem is that he’s five meters shorter than Belial.”
Kei’s nostrils flare. Kirisaki says, very slowly, “I don’t think I need to take this kind of insult to my person, especially from some lovesick puppy who’s never even managed to shed his milk teeth and get some real bite.”
Juggler’s back goes visibly stiff as Kei covers his mouth with a hand, obviously concealing laughter. “Excuse me? You think I don’t have bite?”
“All these thousands of years, and what have you got to show for it? Some property damage and a broken heart.”
“And yet I live, you pretentious wizard, which is more than I can say for you or Belial’s concubine here.”
Kei raises an eyebrow. “Is that nickname supposed to be an insult?”
Juggler huffs irritably. “To anyone reasonable it would be, but no, you have to be in love with him.”
“Yes, because being in love with Ultraman Orb is so much better.”
Kirisaki rolls his eyes, and they both glare at him, saying, simultaneously, “Taro is worse,” before turning to then glare at each other.
There are a few long, uncomfortable minutes of silent coffee-drinking before anyone speaks again, and then it is, of course, Juggler. “Look, are either of you betting men?”
Kei’s eyebrows shoot up. Kirisaki grins. “When it’s interesting. What did you want to bet on?”
Juggler drains his cup of coffee and waves to a server to get a refill. “Theft. Why don’t we plan to meet up here in a year’s time, and whichever of us has brought along the most entertaining thing that he’s stolen wins…something. We’ll fight it out when it happens.”
Kei shrugs. “Sounds fine to me, as the only master thief here I look forward to taking my forfeit.”
“Confident of you. And I assume the wizard’s going to try bringing us Taro’s obnoxious son on a leash—don’t glare at me, if you manage it I’ll buy him a coffee too.”
Kirisaki’s glare subsides into slow amusement once more. “It’s a deal, then.”
“That’s assuming, of course,” Juggler says as they all trade handshakes, “that you two manage to make it here at all in a year’s time, given that you’re both dead.”
“I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to.” Kei finishes his own cup of coffee. “After all, it’s as you said before.”
—and they all speak in unison. “Coffee shops are liminal spaces.”